Vacillation
by MeyoUSonIC
Summary: End of season 3 two-shot. What exactly was going on in the mind of Jude Harrison as she ran like a victorious track star to meet her man of choice? Had she even made her choice? Well, not exactly. Let's just say her mind was running more than she was.
1. Chapter 1

This is basically a short little piece exploring Jude's thoughts during the aformentioned span of time. Some humor worked its way mysteriously in there, probably because I had had one too many mocha-lattes when I started writing this...blah...blah...blah, etc. Here's the first part of "Vacillation". But to be redundant, I will say that again right...now.

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**Vacillation: Part I**

_Choose what's in your heart..._ Sadie never did give good advice. Was that little adage supposed to strike some sort of chord in my mind? Was a powerful magnet supposed to descend from the heavens and pull my walking body in the right direction? Was a proverbial lightbulb supposed to magically appear over my head? Ding, ding, ding: Jude, choose who's behind door number 1! Ummm...no. I got nothing.

I mean, what _is_ my heart, anyways? Some appendage of my conscience, poking at me, goading my mind one way or another? A gut feeling telling me what to do, like how to decide between orange juice and milk in the morning? I never was a decisive one, anyhow. I would most likely just pour a glass of each and that was it. When it came to guys, it seemed I'd always tend to wanna try out every one that showed interest. Why? I have no clue. I guess it's easier to know which shoe fits if you actually try them all on. But why were so many of them interested in me, me of all people? Couldn't they see I wasn't good at this decision thing?

Maybe this means my heart has some sort of malfunction. Like cardio...indecisive...itis. Or something. Yes, I have a very bad case of cardioindecisivitis. Because of this, Jamie...Tommy, I am afraid I won't be able to choose between you two any time soon. My doctor has me on strict bed rest orders. Yes, I will be fine, guys, stop hyperventalating. No, Tommy, the doctor didn't hurt me...no, he wasn't hitting on me either. Umm...Jamie, no. Don't even think of making me eat Nana's Cure-It-All chicken soup; I'm sorry, but that stuff is just nasty.

Maybe I'm thinking too much. Maybe now that I'm trying to use my heart, it just doesn't want to work for me. I can see it looking up and laughing at me from down there, mocking the way I'm walking mindlessly down a road, futilly contemplating a critical decision that it would rather smirk at me trying to make than help me with. Why can't it direct me like it does when I make all of those mindless, impulsive decisions? Yeah, Jude, go ahead and say on national television that meat-eaters are barbaric; it would make those veagens feel better. Why don't you just sign a contract with Darius for Tommy's music? What could possibly go wrong? I guess when I think about it all those heart-guided decisions didn't really turn out too well anyways.

But then again, maybe all those decisions were meant to be made the way they were. Maybe it wasn't really my heart that lead me into the choices. Maybe it was some higher power. The universe! That's it. Maybe it was fate that I decided to sign that contract. It was meant to happen so that I would be in this exact place, at this exact point in time. Sure, I'm in a predicament, with the whole decide who to be with thing, but other than that I can't complain. I'm a famous rockstar; I have fufilled my dream for the most part. I have more than anyone would ever want. And really, wasn't it supposed to be a good thing to have guys fight over you? Come to think of it, I'm living the life: I have money, fame, my music...guys vying for my attention. I'm freaking fabulous. No wait...I'm _fierce_.

Maybe this whole fate thing knows better. I should probably just go along with it, right? Right. There's one guy I am meant to be with. Destiny. One guy I am meant to marry and have children with. Oh God, I'm starting to freak at the thought of children...my own children. Not only am I thinking of the whole nine months with another human being attached to me, but if I choose the wrong guy, will I end up with the right children? I mean, they can't possibly be the same with different...em... sperm involved. What if I'm supposed to give birth to the next Jimi Hendrix, but I pick the wrong guy? That won't happen--right?--because fate always gets its way. Whichever I pick, I'll eventually end up with the guy that will give me the life--and the children--that I am supposed to end up with.

Still. Picking said guy now would sure prevent a lot of heartache. Yeah, sure it's not like I'm necessarily going to marry the guy I choose right now. But still, gosh, that would be so cool, if life was like _The Price Is Right_. All I have to do is make the the right decision, _'Is the price of this brand new four door truck, Love, higher or lower than 25,000? If you're right, you win at life! You'll get a one-way trip to the life you've always wanted!'_ Shall I elaborate on this cheesy metaphor? I shall.

Tommy would definitely be the _'higher'_ choice. I mean, it seems like everything with him comes with a big price. And it seems my payment of choice is broken heart after broken heart. He must be god damn rich by now. Okay, I cannot be shedding this tear right now. Damn it, stop falling stupid tear! God, that man always seems to get me worked up. This just proves my point further: he's definitely pricey. Even when only coming up in my mind he's seems to cost me pain. Being with him is nothing but self-sacrificing. But, God damn it, when he looks at me...and those eyes. And when he...kisses me. I just, it feels like it's worth it, if only for that split second. If only for the half a moment his arms are wrapped around me in a perfect hug, I almost believe I can deal. I trust for that moment that can get through all the heartbreak he has to dish out. Bring it on! Here. Take my heart, step on it, put it through a paper shredder, roll over it with a diesel truck, I honestly don't give a care for those few milleseconds in time. It almost feels worth it. Almost.

Then there's the lower choice: Jamie. I guess you could say he's dirt cheap. There's nothing to give up, to second guess... it's all on the table. There's no what if's with him, it seems. I could see life with him. The surburban home, the golden retriever playing with the children as we frolic within our nice little white picket fences. Hold up, white picket is so cheesy. I'd at least have to venture out a little and pick like turqiouse picket or something, just for the sake of randomness. Anyways, living the Canadian Dream (or whatever that would be called) with our family of four, or so. No one to judge us, to forbid us from being together, to snap the occasional front page tabloid photo. I can see being at peace with Jamie.

But is peace what I want? It's what everyone seems to be after these days. Some peace of mind, world peace; whatever it is, they want to be happy...content. But isn't happiness just relative? Aren't we only ever happier than we were in the past? Or sadder than we ever remember being? Are there, like, happiness standards out there? The government needs to work on that. It'd be a better waste of money than stupid PSAs interrupting my favorite shows and wasting minutes of my life. Haha, and you ask 'Isn't running in circles around the Starbucks block right now also a waste of your life?' Actually, besides testing the strength of my anti-perspirant, I am making an important decision, thank you very much. Which I should get back to. Where was I? Oh yes, happiness.

No doubt both guys make me incredibly happy every so often. Jamie when he brings me coffee in the morning even when I'm being a cranky bitch. I wonder if that's more the coffee making me happy than Jamie. But it's still sweet. He always does things like that to let me know he cares, and I know that I can count on him for that. On the other hand, there's Tommy. He pretty much makes me feel alive every time he looks at me. Especially when he looks at me like _that_. I can't even describe what "that" is, but when he does it, I know. We know. It's like some unspoken assurance that he cares. That I'm the only one he's thinking about at that moment. Every now and then I wish, though. I wish he would do the little things that Jamie does everyday to tell me he's thinking about me. Or I wish Jamie could look at me and make me feel the way Tommy does with simple eye contact. Then one of them would surely outweigh the other in the happiness department.

If they both make me happy in two different ways, what other criteria do I have? Like I said before, I need a sign. Thinking it through just gets me right back to point A. Let's see, I've discussed which one fate has led me to, which one hurts me more, which one makes me happier. I can't help but realize that I've conveniently avoided one thing. A big thing. A thing that basically makes all of these other reasons complete crap. Crap that needed to sort through before I could face this (I know what you're thinking. "why the fuck did I read the first half of this thing then?") I don't know why I've tried so hard to keep it out of my mind when I know it's what will give me the answer I'm looking for. Maybe it's because I'm afraid. I'm afraid that I'm putting myself on the line by getting into it. I mean, this _is_ my life I'm talking about here. This is something serious. This isn't the crush you develop on your 7th grade teacher. This isn't some 'I like you, you like me, let's get together some time' kinda thing. This could really turn into something. Something big, something invincible, something...I'm not quite sure I'm ready for. This is love. This could be my forever. He could be my forever. Who is he? I think you know exactly who I'm talking about. And now that I'm realizing this, I know that it's the only sign I need. That I would willingly give my self if it meant he would be the one to gain fate's favor, the one to be spared hurt, the one in happiness.

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who is it? dun, dun, duuuunn. next part will be up in a few. (days, hours, minutes, decades? no one knows.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Vacillation- Part Two**

_He could be my forever. Who is he? I think you know exactly who I'm talking about. And now that I'm realizing this, I know that it's the only sign I need. That I would willingly give my self if it meant he would be the one to gain fate's favor, the one to be spared hurt, the one in happiness._

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Yet I'm here, waiting for something to change my mind. Something larger than love to snap me out of it. To keep me from getting myself into something that I know will bring extreme happiness but also untinkable pain. Something to help me take the sting out of the rest of my life. I'm sick of it. There has to be an easier way. Something other than love that I can settle for. Who designed love that way? Who knew giving yourself fully to someone else meant they could ruin you with one look, one word, one action? At the same time, though, I think it's that way on purpose. You have to feel the pain to feel that amazing high when the pain is over, when all is well again. Like they say, make up sex is the best sex. Though I wouldn't know...ahem...the principle holds true. It feels like your whole world has been renewed. It's like all your fields of green spring up again and your atmosphere is refilled with ozone. You feel like doing a Julie Andrews and cavorting in the meadow. It's cliche, but it's true. I know. Because, no matter how much I've been trying to get around it, I love him. So much. And I know because I feel that exact way everytime he regains my trust. It makes me wonder, is there something larger than love? Something that can keep me from him? I doubt it.

Well, this confirms my suspicion. I'm standing right outside of his door, and I've actually got my hand up to knock on it. How the hell did this happen? My feet are not agreeing with my mind right now. My anatomy will have to have a nice talk after this is done with. My mind says to stop and wait, to think before I act, to realize this thing I'm getting myself into while the rest of my body asks why I'm waiting for faith in something else when I can believe in love, right in front of me, all I have to do is reach out and grab it?

Or knock on its door. Literally.

Now that I think about I am realizing that it is just that simple. It was never that hard all along. All this talk about pain and suffering, the fear of it. I--actually, we--always made it harder than it had to be. I think it's some part of human nature, being drama queens...or kings. We want to believe that our tiny insignificant troubles are worth worrying about, that something--anything--about us deserves that much effort. Sure, there was pain, will be pain. Yeah, I almost believed that I would never come back from some of the hurt. But I did, didn't I? I am here. I am standing here, breathing, I feel my chest pounding. I must be alive, right? That fact alone, that I have survived through it all, should be evidence enough that I am strong enough. It should be evidence enough that _we_ are strong enough. Do I really need evidence to believe though? I know enough: I need him. I really, really need him.

Okay. I did it. I knocked. I bet this the part you've been waiting for. Hold on, courtesy sniff...Thank you, anti-perspirant! Is it really healthy for my heart to be beating this hard? I swear if I looked down I'd see it had burst out of my chest and onto the pavement. Oh my, the anxiety. What if? What if? What if? Answer the door, damn it! Am I thinking too fast? Does it seem that way? I really want to see him right now. What if he's changed his mind? Right now, I don't care. I just really need to see him. Shit, the door's opening...

"Can I help you, maam?" What the? Who is this old lady?

"Hello. I'm looking for...someone else...do you live here? I must've come to the wrong door by accident..." Talk about anti-climactic.

"No. You're looking for dark hair? Yea high?" the woman says measuring out about 6 feet with her hand.

"...Yeah. He lives here?"

"Yes, sweetie. He's out right now." Damn. I mustered up all that courage for nothing.

"Do you have any idea where he is?"

"He said he was going to the airport"

"Oh" Wow. "I've...uh...gotta...um..go."

I'm running again. But this time's different. I know where I'm going. I know what I need to do. I know who I want. I...just realized the airport's five miles from here. Oops.

I'm waving again. But this time's different. No, I'm not telling my sister goodbye or even doing the kokomoko. I need a damn taxi. You. I pick you. You are going to stop for me. Or I will jump in front of you and make you stop...or you'll break my legs and be sued. So stop. Goooood taxi. Okay, well, it kinda smells like an old burrito in here but it will have to do.

"Where to?"

"The airport and step on it!" Oooo. That sounded cool. Watch out Matthew McCounehey. Look, the little man driving does as I say.

We're moving. Yeah. We're moving. C'mon we're moving.

2 minutes later

Keep on moving. We're flowing. A-going. We're flowing. A-going. Gonna make it. In time. Move it little man. Yes! Way to switch lanes like a maniac and piss people off! Rock on Mr. Mexican midget! Okay. Only a half a mile left. Yessss. Go. Go. Go. Go. (This is where I start pumping my fist.) Go. Go. Go. No. No. NOOOOO!

Red light. I'm screwed. I'm fucked. I'm screwed. Damn it!

"You know the airport's less than quarter mile from here. I can see it coming up. This traffic make take a while." Yes! I'll run. Once again. I'll make it.

"Thank you!" I give him a hundred and before I can except his numerous thank yous I'm out of the car and running.

Almost there. Almost there. Thighs burning. I knew I should have participated in P.E. Keep going, keep going. I'm in! Breathe. In. Out.

Okay now. Thailand, Thailand, Thailand, Thailand. I need to find the flight to Thailand. Let's see, employee...there!

"Excuse me, would you happen to know the where the flight to Thailand is?"

"Well, the two-stop flight goes to Vancouver first...which is terminal 7. I believe the flight leaves in 3 minutes, though, maam." Shit.

"Thank you, thank you..." I run as fast as I can. I can't let him leave. That means two months with all of this bottled up. Two months without him knowing how I feel. Two months without him.

I approach terminal 6. I know its close. I see large arrows pointing me in terminal 7's direction. I check the clock. I have about a minute. Run, Jude, run. I pass up security. Sorry about that, mister! Kinda have a crisis on my hands. Shit, he's chasing me. He's probably concluded I'm a terrorist by now.

"I command you to stop!" No! You...you...big meanie! I keep running. I need to stop that flight. Oh, please don't taser me.

"Stop this moment!" I enter the gate and encounter a women who I assume ushers people onto the plane.

"Excuse me, I need to get on this flight!"

"Sorry, this flight just closed. It will be leaving shortly. I'm afraid that's not possible" And I'm afriad I'm gonna have to kick your ass if you don't let me on.

"No, you don't understand, I need you to stop this plane!"

"I don't think you understand how this works. The flight is ready to take off. Stopping is simply not an option." Oh, fuck you!

"I don't care! Stop this..." I hear the engine roar. I go up to the window with my forehead pressed against the glass. The plane lifts off. "...plane." Fuck.

The woman smiles at me before leaving. The nerve of some people. Ugh. The door flys open.

"Stop right there!" Oh shit. Not you again. Oh. And with a big scary gun. Hello there big scary barrel of big scary gun. It's okay. Calm down there big papa. I put my hands up in surrender. "Are you in possession of any firearms? Knives? Drop everything in front of you."

"No. I'm not. I swear I'm not." He moves closer and slowly relaxs his grip on the weapon. He examines me closely and drops his weapon. He pats me down briefly. Wow. That was uncomfortable.

"Are you aware that you have surpassed the necessary airport security check?"

"Yes. But I needed to." I really feel like crying right now.

"Why is that?"

"It's complicated."

"Maam, I'm afraid I'll have to bring you in if you don't explain the situation to me."

"Do you want the whole story or the condensed one?"

"Whichever"

"Basically, the love of my life just left on that plane to Thailand and I was supposed to be with him but I'm a stupid coward. So I needed to stop it before he left. Didn't work out too well as you can see." Big man softened a little at that.

"I'm sorry maam"

"Don't be."

"Can I get you anything?" Why is he asking me this? He really is a softie.

"No. I just want to be alone for a few minutes." I need to sulk.

Why am I so retarded? Why couldn't I have just went for it when he was still here? Why am I so slow? I curl my knees up a rest my head between them.

"AHHHHHH!" I begin to hit myself repeatedly in the head with my palm.

"You. Are. So. Dumb! You're. Stupid. You have no balls whatsoever and you lose. You lose at life."

Why does this happen? I had him. I had him so close. He opened up. He told me he loves me, for Pete's sake. And I love him. I love him so fucking much but I screwed up. This time I can blame my stupid self. And my cardioindecisivitis. I guess sometimes it is my fault. I'm scared. I used to be scared of being with him but now I'm scared because he's not here. He's headed to freaking Thailand and I'm stuck in this airport terminal. Sulking.

If only I hadn't made it so damn complicated. I should've seen. I should've known. I told him that I loved him and I meant it. But I couldn't place my finger on what it actually was to love him. It was just a mere emotion then but now it's all too real. I feel like I'm only half. I feel like I'm missing part of myself because I'm missing him. It's been said so many times but now I know what it means to feel empty. And it's sucks. Though that sounds all good and dandy, that's not what makes me realize what it means to be in love with him. What makes it real is the horrible pang in my heart knowing that, wherever he is, he is feeling this way too. He is missing part of himself, the part that he found in me. We are not one because we have a musical connection, or because we have similar interests. We are one because we completely and unconsciously experience each others emotions. I don't mean petty sympathy, either. When he is hurting, I am hurting. When he is happy I am equally ecstatic. I can't help it...because all I want in life is for him to receive all he's ever wanted. And so his words reverberate in my mind, "I would do anything for you..."

Hold up, homie.

"And that's including, but not limited to, canceling my trip to Thailand." I spin around my head so fast I swear I gave myself whiplash.

"Tommy?!" I see him standing there, in all his glory, hands casually dug into his pockets with a giddy smile plastered to his face. Without even thinking, I am up from the floor and in his arms again; I nearly knock him over but he holds fast and huffs out a chuckle. We settle into each other, his fingers tangling through my hair as mine grab fistfuls of his shirt. Ahhhh. It feels better than I remember. We both sigh heavily. His scent surrounds me and I breathe him in as if he is finally supplying me with the stuff I need to live. I feel myself being spun around while overflowing with a mixture of giggles and sobs, and momentarily drift into bliss. (_'The hills are aliiiiive!'_) I catch no-longer-bitchy usher lady smiling on the other side of the door and mouth a 'thank you'. I savor Tommy's strong embrace for a few more moments before releasing him. His forehead gently presses against mine and I squeeze my eyes shut, memorizing the moment forever.

As he brushes the hair from my eyes and holds my face in his perfect hands, I have to begrudgingly admit something. Sadie was right. (I know, it scares me as well.) Tommy was in my heart. He was there all along. When I thought he was gone the ache was unbearable. And now that he's here I can actually feel the joy bubbling up inside of me, ready to burst from every pore. Trusting in my heart, the impulsive, but always reliable resource, I pinch Tommy's cute little butt. Teehee. Oops.

"Oww!" he says, feigning hurt. He knows he loves me.

"What? A girl can't innocently pinch her boyfriend's ass?" I give him the poutiest face I can muster. "His extremely cute ass, might I add." I pat him patronizingly on the butt.

"You are going to get it." Oh no.

Tommy unleashes the fury of his tickling on me as I squirm and giggle. "Tommy! Stop!" I squirm until I break from his grasp.

"You can't catch me!" I say sticking out my tongue and running from him.

"Oh yeah?" He follows me quickly. So he thinks. I bet he didn't anticipate my cheetah-like celerity. All that running really tuned up my skills.

"Damn!" he says as he speeds up. Haha, knew it. I find him cute when he's panting for breath. Wait. Dead end. Oh sh--

"Eeeek!" I shriek as he catches up and pins me against a wall, resuming his tickling. And though I am defeated, I really don't mind. Because for Tommy, I'd do anything. Even let him win. Yep, that's my excuse; I _let him_ win.

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Hope you guys liked it...and comment if you read. you know you waaaaant to... well maybe you don't, but humor me anyways.


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